“Oh,” Jainan said.
“The Chain is old and slow and may not be your main threat. No—the minute you leave Resolution protection, the powers that will be scrambling fighters and plotting routes are Kaschec and the Enna Union, both military megapowers that need quick victories to prop up their demagogues at home. Kaschec owns territory nearer to your link and has better passage agreements, so I’d expect them to get here first. You might have months. You probably have weeks.”
Instead of panicking, Jainan felt he was watching the machinery in his head as it kept ticking over, heavy and relentless, crunching this new information and its consequences. He imagined Thea standing alone in a sector annexed by a Galactic megapower. The Resolution promised stability. How much independence would Thea manage to keep if the rest of the sector was at war? “What if Thea somehow managed to agree a treaty in four days?” he said. “What about the other planets? Sefala? Eisafan?”
The Auditor gave a fluid motion of his shoulders that could have passed as a shrug. The chair shifted under him. “They have not volunteered information as you have for Thea. We don’t generally encourage schisms in treaty signatories, but we encourage remnant use and deceiving the committees even less.”
Jainan was surprised at his own lack of dread. Everything seemed very clear, clearer than it had for the past five years, as if the beginnings of a breeze had stirred in his head and the fog there were melting away. He barely needed to stop to consider Kiem, and Bel, and Audel and her students. “I need the whole sector to be part of the treaty,” he said quietly. “Even Iskat. I have … links.”
The Auditor gave him a long look, from those disconcertingly normal eyes with their alien political views. He reached up and touched the lacquer headpiece again; the field swirled back over his face.
“Then find me those fifteen remnants, Jainan nav Adessari of Feria.” The Auditor’s mouth, now the only visible part of his face, curved up in something that wasn’t a smile. “You have four days.”
* * *
A shift change buzzer sounded in the narrow corridors of a hostel as Kiem knocked on the door of the guest room assigned to Professor Audel. The attendees from the Imperial College had been assigned to hostel rooms in the Transit Module; they’d clearly run out of guest suites in the nicer residential areas.
It was the second door Kiem had tried. It was locked, but an occupancy light glowed softly. Kiem tried the bios sensor.
A voice from the speaker said, “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”
The door slid open to show a small set of rooms with a pokey living area cramped by a desk and chair. Several screens were open above the desk. The window opposite the door, sunk in the wall to give the illusion of a view, was currently set to a projection of a beach that seemed faintly alien to Kiem.
Gairad sat on a flat couch under the window, staring disconsolately at the alien beach. There was nobody else in the room.
“Did you want the professor?” she asked, without bothering to look up. “She’s out.”
Kiem shifted one of the desk chairs and sat down facing her. The room was so small that he took up most of the available width between the desk and the opposite wall, cutting off the route to the door. Gairad’s eyes finally flickered to him.
“No,” Kiem said amiably, “I don’t want the professor.”
“Jainan?” Gairad said. She straightened up from her slouch, putting her feet on the ground. “He went to the control room to check my refinery data.”
Kiem leaned back in the chair and brought up one ankle to prop on his opposite knee. “Did you know Professor Audel was under investigation?”
“No,” Gairad said. Kiem kept his eyes on her face and noted how quickly that answer had come. She added belatedly, “Why? What for?”
“Internal Security is saying she compromised Kingfisher’s systems.”
Gairad’s hands curled around the edge of the couch seat. “Why would she do that? Kingfisher already gave us the data she asked for.”
Kiem lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. “Did they? Too technical for me to understand, really.” He leaned forward a fraction. “Internal Security thinks she used your account, though. As well as her other students’ accounts. That’s a shame. Jainan didn’t want you involved.”
To give Gairad credit, her expression had the same low-key hostility she’d shown Kiem when they’d first met. She wasn’t giving anything away, and Kiem wasn’t sure of anything, not yet. “She didn’t use my account,” Gairad said. “She didn’t do anything.”
“No,” Kiem agreed. “She didn’t use your account. You’d barely trust the average Iskaner to pass you the salt; I can’t see you handing your teacher your private keys. On top of that, you’re clever and technical enough to keep up with Jainan; there’s no way you wouldn’t notice if Professor Audel was using your account in secret.”
There was no trace of a slouch in Gairad’s posture now. “What do you mean?”
“You broke into Kingfisher’s systems,” Kiem said bluntly. Gairad laughed outright, short and incredulous. Kiem waited for her to finish before he carried on. “What were you after?”
“This is bullshit,” Gairad said, squaring her shoulders as if she might start a physical fight. “I don’t know where you got that idea from. I’m here to pass my study program and get my shipping license. I already had to come all the way to Iskat for it. Why would I take a risk like hacking an Iskat army system?”
“Good question,” Kiem said. “May I use your screen?”
Gairad frowned, looking for the trap, but after a moment she waved permission. Kiem gestured to his wristband and threw up the picture of the young Thean who had died in the accident.
“I don’t know who that is,” Gairad said.
“Fairly sure you do,” Kiem said.
“Why would I?” Gairad said defensively. “That’s a Deralli neckscarf. Whoever he is, he has nothing to do with Feria.”
“Yeah, I know,” Kiem said. “I think that’s why Internal Security didn’t make the link. Iskaners deal with your prominent clans, because that’s who takes up political positions on Thea. We know just enough about clans to think we know how Thea works. But not everyone thinks clan society is the most important thing, do they? I read your article.”
“You barely read anything,” Gairad said. Kiem grinned at her, which didn’t lessen the tension but instead spun it out. Gairad took a moment to think, which was the first crack in her defenses Kiem had seen. “What article?”
“The one you wrote for your Pan-Thean Interest Society back at Bita Point University,” Kiem said. “Fascinating newsletter you guys had. I liked all the cartoons of the Emperor, they really nailed her scowl. Our friend”—he gestured to the face on the screen—“was a member too. From his bylines, it looks like he joined two years before you. You would have crossed over. I think you knew him.”
“So I was at university with someone who’s now dead,” Gairad said. “So what? You don’t have proof of anything. Fuck off.”